


Spark on a Skein

by Dellessa



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellessa/pseuds/Dellessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl watched Jazz for a long time, as he worked the strange pick-like devices through the large spool of organic thread. Carly sat on the edge of the table doing much the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spark on a Skein

Prowl watched Jazz for a long time, as he worked the strange pick-like devices through the large spool of organic thread. Carly sat on the edge of the table doing much the same. A long swathe of material trailed down from the picks.

 

It was easily one of the strangest things that Prowl had ever seen, and he had seen many strange things in his long vorns of life.  

 

“What are you doing Jazz?” He finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

 

“Ah am makin’ ya somethin’, Prowler.” He winked, “Baby it’s cold outside, and ahm gonna take care of you.”

 

Prowl wasn’t sure what to make of that cryptic statement, what could Jazz possibly be making him with that...stuff? He wasn’t at all convinced it would be something useful. “If you say so, Jazz. You know, my name isn’t Prowler. It’s Prowl. It’s disresp---”  

 

“Ah know, Prowler, yah’ve told me a million times. Why don’t yah skidaddle. Got some work tah do.”

 

Prowl left shaking his helm. He would never understand Jazz.

 

***

 

“I don’t understand this,” Prowl said, peering through the tissue paper.  

 

“It’s a scarf and doorwing warmers,” Carly said, giving him a big grin. “Jazz worked really hard on them, don’t you like them? I might have helped a little. Isn’t it sweet?”

 

A million answers ran through Prowl’s processor, starting with the fact that he was metal, and ending with the fact that he didn’t really get cold like an organic. The look on Jazz’s face plate’s stopped him though. Sometimes the mech wore his spark on his shoulder pauldrons. “I love it,” he found himself saying, and gave Jazz a little smile.


End file.
